Dec.7, 2009 Submissions - Brazil, South Africa, Canada, Colombia, Egypt

THE HUNT

OLD CAIRO

ANOTHER CENTURY

DESPITE THE POVERTY

SOAKING AWAY THE WEEK

SMITTEN

CELEBRATING SOUTH AFRICA

PRIMORDIAL

Nov.9, 2009 Submissions - U.S.A.

WINTER IN A SUNLESS CANYON

Gold Award

Critique: A bit dark on the right but the sign gets some light in there. The center could have been saturated with colour a little more but that's my personal preference. Overall, pleasing pattern image.

MERCHANTS ROAD, KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE
Gold Award

Critique: Initial impression was that it was a little too busy but the coloured areas pull it in. Graininess suits the image. Little bit of a quibble on the base but overall nice image.

Nov. 2, 2009 Submissions - Namibia

ETOSHA NATIONAL PARK

Gold Award

Critique: Initial impression is that it’s a bit overexposed but it seems to work here to convey the heat of the plains, picked up by the drooping heads of the zebras. Also, nice bands of different pastel colours.

SPRINGBOK TEAM
Gold Award

Critique: Panoramic format works well with this image. The front ground is out of focus but the key areas are sharp (the faces and horns of the animals).

Oct. 12, 2009 Submissions - Japan, Canada

AUTUMN FESTIVAL ADRENALINE
Silver Award

Critique: Whites too white, image a bit disjointed.

CASCADES

Gold Award

Oct. 5, 2009 Submissions - Vietnam, Colombia

SAIGON MARKET

Gold Award

CARTAGENA'S GLORY DAYS

Gold Award

Most Innovative Award

Sept. 21, 2009 Submissions - Canada

SELF-PORTRAIT

Gold Award

Most Innovative Award

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF CANADA

Gold Award

Discovering ETHIOPIAN Cuisine

Fascinating Amharic Script

Bole Road - one of the main arteries in Addis.

Global Coca-Cola

An exhibit in the National Museum

View from the museum.

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DISCOVERING ETHIOPIAN CUISINE

Although it may not be high on many travellers’ lists, I really enjoyed my short time in Ethiopia. The people were physically striking and generally warm and friendly. The capital, Addis Ababa, was also a fun place to explore for a 3-day layover. My impressions? Well, Addis had a few grandiose pockets such as the president's palace and the 5-star hotels but, relatively speaking, it looked much poorer than many other capitals I've been to. That said, the streets were still very colourful regardless of the level of affluence, whether it was high end variegated marble walls or much cheaper corugated tin partitions painted in bold colours. The “Merkato”, which is purported to be the largest outdoor market in Africa, was also very colourful and was a fun place to shop for out of the ordinary spices, fabrics, metal work and other souvenirs.


The highlight of our stay in Ethiopia was, for me, its unique cuisine. As if to incorporate more of the senses, it is eaten with the hands instead of utensils. And it is a sensory treat: visually engaging bright reds and oranges from the wa’t sauces, aromas that draw you in, and then complex blends of spices that seemed to make every morsel a tiny work of art. I could move to Ethiopia for its cuisine alone.


I was so enchanted by the national dishes that I actually bought an Ethiopian cookbook at the airport. Apart from various recipes, it had chapters on Ethiopian culture that made a fascinating read. Let me end with an excerpt from the book. I’ll preface it with the fact that I have no idea if this accurately reflects/reflected Ethiopian society or if it is the author’s isolated viewpoint. I would also make the comment that social and cultural engagement, much like Ethiopian spices, can be quite complex. Still, the excerpt provides some food for thought….


From “Exotic Ethiopian Cooking”, D.J. Mesfin, 2004.

An Ethiopian man is always the diner; never the cook. The kitchen is off-limits to him. His woman doubles up as cook, servant and waitress. In a childless household, she washes her huband’s feet and brings him a vessel and water pot for him to wash his hand before touching food. Washing hands before a meal is a must. The lady of the house only promotes herself to chef if she can afford domestic help or has a daughter.
A woman worth her salt values her cooking no less than her looks. In fact, she is more partial to her cooking because she is socially judged by it: an unaccomplished woman makes her husband a laughing stock. Her honor, therefore, depends on her standing in society. It is also a matter of honor and duty that she creates her daughter in her own image – a good cook, housewife and mother. That attribute and her virginity make her a prize catch for a suitor. In this catalogue of virtues, good conduct, pleasant character and respectability are plus points. For, as our saying goes, a good wife is her husband’s crown.

SOUTH AFRICA Road Trip

Cedarberg's arid landscape.

Forests and coast along the Garden Route

The Drakensberg Mountains

Cape Agulhas - the southern most point in Africa



Cape Dutch Architecture

Table Mountain

Stellenbosch in SA's Wine Region

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SA Road Trip!

… Road trip out to Cape Town to attend our friends Monica and Neil’s wedding. It’s a 16-hour drive from Johannesburg to Cape Town but we decided to take it slow, not driving more than 3 or 4 hours per day, thus allowing us to take in the varied landscape between Jo’burg and the Cape. To describe the trip in familiar North American terms, it was like cutting through a 3-hour swathe of Qu’appelle Valley Saskatchewan, followed by a bit of Wyoming, leading to drier Arizona, then passing through lusher Vancouver Island, and finally traversing unnerving (but stunning!) mountain passes to arrive at California’s Pacific Coast Highway.


But then, of course, that’s in North American terms, which does an injustice to South Africa’s distinct flavour. In the first rural town we stayed at, for example, we visited a dusty bar where we witnessed Afrikaaner “langarm dans”, a dance style that looked like a cross between Texan line-dancing and European waltzing. When we arrived in our club clothes and dissimilar style of shakin’, we were initially gawked at like some aliens from a far-flung urban galaxy. It didn’t take long, however, before they were chatting with us and we were enveloped in their hospitality. You’d have been hard pressed to find any music from our millennium playing at their club, but I learned that isn’t what’s needed to have a great time.


The next bit of our road trip, the Karoo, reminded me very much of South-Western United States, with its arid landscape and craggy mountain backdrop. But then, periodically, there’d be the incongruous thatched huts or ostrich farms that would serve to remind you that you weren’t in Kansas, or Arizona, or anywhere in the western hemisphere for that matter. This was Africa.


The next leg of our trip was, of course, also Africa but the contrast was so great, you would have thought it was another continent. Approaching a town called Knysna, the dry air moistened and the mountains greened correspondingly. First, small flowering bushes, then taller and lusher until we were towered by dense, yellow-wood stands. We had reached what is very aptly called “the Garden Route”, a quite enjoyable spot to spend a couple of days hiking and exploring.


Continuing past the Garden Route, you eventually hit the end of the earth. I.e., “Cape Agulhas”, the southern-most tip of Africa. The tiny village was how one might romanticize it to be: wind-blown, out-of-the-way, sleepy, with a picturesque lighthouse dominating the landscape. Obviously not the place to find pulsating night-life but there’s something to be said for that slower pace; something to be said for the deep gulps of fresh sea air and the mesmerizing pounding of two oceans…Definitely worth venturing off the beaten path for.


In contrast, once again, our next stop was Cape Town. This city is arguably the gem of South Africa. Apart from its charming Dutch-style architecture, Cape Town has a scenic ocean front at its feet and the arresting “Table Mountain” covering its back. Fantastic scenery, vibrant street life, beautiful people, beautiful food, beautiful time: Thank you, Monica and Neil, for having your wedding there!


Their wedding, as to be expected, was unforgettable. It was held on the lawn of a stately villa, with grand eucalyptus trees rimming the perimeter and Table Mountain overlooking in the background. A group of African singers delivered polyrythmic songs as the radiant bride was escorted down the lawn. Neil looked dashing in airy Nigerian robes. The ceremony itself was peppered with distinctly African traditions that were new to me (bride and groom jumping over a broom, for example), but the universal feeling of warmth was there, as was a universal joy in celebrating the bond between two soul-mates.
I might have even shed one of those universal tears…

RUSSIA & EASTERN EUROPE -- Elvis Has Moved to St.Petersburg

St. Basel's Cathedral

St. Petersburg Facade

Moscow Winter

Onion-domed church, Moscow

Tallin, capital of Estonia

Courtyard in Prague, Czech Republic




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ELVIS HAS MOVED TO ST. PETERSBURG

…What we would consider our honeymoon was spent back in Europe exploring St. Petersburg, Russia’s second largest city, and Tallin, the capital of the Baltic state of Estonia. The two were quite distinct from each other, but both dripped with charm. Tallin’s walled, medieval Old Town was a gem of a place packed with interesting shops and fine restaurants. We’d explore ‘til our feet hurt then go sit at a café or read a book in one of its many parks. Yeah, it was just a nice place to hobble through cobble-stoned squares, and gobble Estonian fare.
St. Petersburg, in comparison to Tallin, had a much more grandiose tone. As you turned different corners, its galleries, cathedrals, canals and palaces seemed to compete for your attention. The Hermitage certainly lived up to its reputation, as did the fountains and gilded statues of Peterhof Palace.

Despite how effusive I am about the various tourist draws of St. Petersburg (a.k.a. "the city formerly known as Leningrad"), one of the most interesting experiences we had was when we stumbled upon a pub that was a kitschy simulacrum of an American saloon. Well, I don’t know if I could really call it a "saloon" because it was such a hodgepodge of rampant Americana. Try to picture dusty, wooden floorboards, a vintage "Happy Days" juke box, Elvis posters, a giant Confederate flag, and south-western cacti (in neon, of course). Yet, despite the what-the-hell-happened-here appearance of the place, the live band was actually amazing and there was an energy that I haven’t seen in a long time. They sang a roster of American hits as eclectic as the decor of the bar; from blues to rock ‘n’ roll to ‘80’s retro, with different American accents to boot. The crowd was worked up and it was surreal to see them swing dance effortlessly, or phonetically mouth the words to "Splish-splash, I was taking a bath…" or "SEX BOMB, you’re my SEX BOMB…". The Russian audience took on American personas in an almost unsettling manner. (Like, hey, is that Yelena "Bobby-Sue" Sukhova kicking up her heels with Alexei "Billy-Bob" Bobovich?) And as if the scene weren’t surreal enough, the band played one set a la alternative grunge. Did we need to see Elvis slam-dancing with Billy-Bobovich? How did this stuff ever get into Russia? I guess it just serves to remind us that we are all citizens of this planet America.

Tales from Timbuktu -- WEST AFRICA

Colourful market in Accra, capital of Ghana

A former slave trade fort, Cape Coast, Ghana

Along Ghana's Coast

Cape Coast, Ghana

Cape Coast Church

Ganvie, Benin

Preparing breakfast

Pays Dogon, Mali

The town of Mopti

Timbuktu street scene

40 degrees in the shade -- bienvenu a Tombouctou!

Skulls at a Voodoo market in Lome, Togo






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TALES FROM TIMBUKTU

Just an update on what we've been up to recently. The Mali leg of our West African travels began in Bamako, the nation's capital, where we spent just enough time to catch some live music and enjoy some of its unassuming nightlife. Our main destination though was the town of Mopti which is the springboard for most of Mali's primary attractions. It is in that region that you find Djenne, Pays Dogon and the legendary Timbuktu. Djenne is a town with an impressive mosque that is Africa's largest mud-built structure, Pays Dogon is a great place to do some hiking and also visit traditional villages that cling to an escarpment, and the legendary Timbuktu is, of course, the legendary Timbuktu.

We had some difficulties getting a seat on the Bamako-Mopti bus. Long story not worth recounting. When you're travelling in Africa, the locals told us, delays are to be expected. When we finally did get a bus seat, we just sighed, "Ya Allah !" With our elation, it was almost movie-like when the bus pulled out of the station and the driver juiced up the African music. What a great sound track to accompany the images of the next few hours. Bucolic scenes of red earth and contrasting green shoots, farmers toiling under an African sun, mud huts with thatched roofs, goats, donkeys, sheep and oxen.

Once in Mopti we looked into transportation to Timbuktu. We learned we had three options : A beat up 4-wheel drive, which in Malian French they call a "quatre-quatre", a 2 m wide, 10 m long wooden boat, which in French they call "une pinasse", or else flying with Air Mali, which in both French and English they call "Air Maybe".
We chose the financially irresponsible route and got tickets for a 35-seater plane which belonged, inexplicably, to Air Armenia. Because it was low-flying, we were treated to more scenery, but this time from a new and exciting perspective. It was interesting to see the snaking swath of green that followed the Niger river and the verdant fields that gave way to scrub trees that gave way to desert.

Stepping off the plane in Timbuktu, we were assaulted by a heat somewhere in the 40's, followed by rapid-fire assaults from tour guides, hawkers, taxi drivers and hotel keepers. Once we were settled in, though, it wasn't quite so bad.

As for the town itself, Timbuktu wrested its title as Africa's greatest trading city and centre of culture and learning centuries ago and we were hard-pressed to find even vestiges of its glorious past. It was, nonetheless, a fascinating place to spend some time. It was fun to purchase curios from turbaned merchants, to wander through alleyways invaded by desert sands, to observe the denizens of Timbuktu go about their daily lives. And at night we declined all the offers for camel rides into the desert; it was pleasant enough in town, with the cooler night air and the full moon to showcase the architecture of mud walls and protruding wooden supports.

Our stay there was not long but it was certainly worthwhile. Back in Mopti, we swapped stories with other travellers that had made it to Timbuktu. Hearing their experiences, we were actually quite glad we took the 50-minute plane ride. One Eastern European women we met said she rode a large pinasse for 5 days. Said she'd never been so hot and sweaty and that at times it was excruciating, especially when the pinasse got stuck, which happened on more than one occasion. Although the pinasse was quite long, as most African pinasses are, she found it was by far too hard and uncomfortable for her liking. I can see doing it for maybe 30 minutes but I can't believe she rode it all the way to Timbuktu.

Safari in EAST AFRICA

The King, Masai Mara, Kenya

Bird of prey, Masai Mara

Week-old baby elephant by his mama.

Winding Alley in Stone Town, Zanzibar

Warm, fun-loving Tanzanian

Idyllic beaches of Zanzibar

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In late February we were given a Muslim holiday lengthy enough to tackle a travel itinerary that included Zanzibar & Arusha, Tanzania, followed by Nairobi & Masai Mara, Kenya. Up there on the "highlights" list was Mount Kilimanjaro. The name alone evokes such strong images of Africa. I love the way it trips off the tip of the tongue: ki-li-man-ja-ro, ki-li-man-ja-ro. Now try saying it when that imposing volcano completely envelopes your line of sight: KI—LI—MAN—JA—RO…*GASP*. We took a plane that allowed us a different perspective of Africa’s highest peak rising above the flat, endless plains and when we were directly over top, the pilot tilted the plane so that we were looking straight down the jaws and into the belly of the giant. Arguably the most awe-inspiring sight I’ve seen in Africa.

"Zanzibar" is yet another name that trips off the tongue so agreeably and yet carries the weight of legends. "The Spice Island" was one of the descriptive monikers given to it. Sounded interesting to us so we decided to take a guided tour to learn how it got this name. It was a bit touristy, as guided tours tend to be, but what an olfactory journey! Cloves are the cash spice of the island but on the tour we saw how over two dozen other spices were grown and harvested. Tangy lemon grass, musky cardamom, delicate ylang ylang, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, anise, rose mint, menthol, turmeric and acato: there was a dazzling array of flavours and fragrances extracted from nature. I marveled at how serendipitous events must have led to their discovery and use. What must have they thought when the first man or woman threw that strange variegated weed into the pot of soup? How did they know that scraping the bark of that tree would make such a pretty cinnamon stick? And who was the first randy devil that plucked those purplish-pink buds for an aphrodisiac?

Apart from the many spice plantations and beaches on the island, the main town itself was quite pleasant. "Stone Town", as it’s called, is a white-washed place that oozes charm with its narrow alleys, ornate wooden doors and architecture redolent of Cairo’s Arab edifices, though with a somewhat more restrained "small-town" feel. We found it enjoyable to just wander the winding alleys, explore old forts and bargain hunt at the outdoor markets. Then, when our bellies dictated, we’d head down to the waterfront where for $3 we could savour grilled lobster or prawns and wash it down with a cold beer. Ah yes, the word "lobster" in the same sentence as "beer"; "heaven" should be crammed in there too.

After Zanzibar, we flew into Arusha for a short visit with Canadian friends teaching near the foot of Mt. Meru, Africa’s second highest mountain. Following a very pleasant couple of days in Arusha, we had a bus ride to Nairobi to look forward to, a time to just let the mind wander. I remember lush, green hills and an overcast sky. There were the occasional bands of light that would stab through breaks in the clouds to cast dramatic lighting on the focal points of the expanse: straw huts, herds of goats, 6-feet tall termite mounds, the Masai in bright red garments. Then I saw them – my first giraffes. They were so graceful despite their title as the world’s tallest animal. Their movements and appearance were so other-worldly, I was transfixed, like a school boy with my face pasted to the window. Yet these lone animals were just a precursor to the Darwinian wonders we were about to see.

Masai Mara was where we officially started our safari. At the gates there was a herd of souvenir hawkers that flocked around us but then shortly after that there were far more interesting assemblages. Impalas, topis, zebras, warthogs, wildebeests and water buffaloes – it just kept getting better and better. Our guide was quite knowledgeable and had a sharp eye. He’d catch things in the distance long before anyone else did. "Look over there," he’d say, "they’re jiggy-jiggying!" And we’d turn to catch two unabashed giraffes doing something naughty – perhaps having eaten too many purplish-pink buds.

We were within 4 metres of sleeping lions, saw wounds from real cat fights, witnessed cheetahs on the prowl and a leopard carrying its prey 5 metres up a tree. We saw a week old baby elephant tottering beside its parents, a bull hippo protecting its harem and young, a lioness playing with her cubs, water buffaloes on guard duty, ready to work collectively to trample any predator. Apart from the adrenaline rush of being in that raw environment, it was interesting to take what we observed and extrapolate it into the human arena. There were the obvious parallels, such as the tender bond between mother and child or the cooperation we witnessed amongst the water buffaloes. There were also contrasts that were quite evident: most humans would not prefer the friendless, solitary lifestyle of the leopard, nor would they care too much for its diet of raw herbivores. Between the obvious similarities and differences, though, there was a lot of room for questioning. How much jiggy-jiggying are we biologically programmed to do? Males to the same extent as females? Does group cohesion ineluctably break down when population density gets larger? How come some cultures allow hippo-style harems? Are the territorial bulls any different from the perpetrators of war? What about that impala that fell prey to the leopard? Much like a person struck down by a car or cancer, it reminded you how ephemeral life is.